


OSHA Never Covered This

by Omakov



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Male Lactation, Monsters, Oviposition, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Urethral Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 09:53:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11079159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omakov/pseuds/Omakov
Summary: Hazard of the job: you can't always control a mark's subconscious and things don't always go to plan. Arthur and Eames don't need a reminding, but they'll get it all the same.





	OSHA Never Covered This

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: if you're not down with tentacle porn I don't really know why you're here.

This was one of the most humiliating ways Arthur had ever died, and that is saying something. He was once choked with a giant lollipop. He’s been kissed to death by a dream version of Poison Ivy. He was even once drowned in tribbles. This is worse than those. 

“Bloody hell, Arthur!” shouted Eames, sounding shocked. It takes a lot to truly shock Eames but Arthur was not in the position to appreciate that. The position he was in, namely, was upside down and compromised.

“Eames, shoot me already!” he snarled out as another thick tentacle snaked up his trouser leg. Eyes wide, Eames raised up his Beretta and aimed to kill. Arthur closed his eyes and so only heard a wet squelch, a crash, and an obscenity all in the space of a second. 

Eames had been snatched up into the air by the biggest tentacle yet, coiled around him like a boa. His Beretta lay on the ground, far below. 

“Darling?” Eames called, struggling against its hold. “Any other ideas?”

Arthur had a split sinking moment of _uh oh_ before the tentacle monster ripped his dress shirt at the seams and tugged it off of him. Smaller tentacles surged across his bare skin, leaving slick, slimy trails in their wake. He couldn’t help shuddering. 

The monster brought Eames closer and Arthur could see he was fighting, forging different shapes, trying to wriggle free. Nothing was working. 

“Anderson’s hentai obsession didn’t come up in your background research?” yelled Eames, sounding a little frantic now.

“Of course it came up!” Arthur shouted back. “Do you know how much weird porn people watch? I didn’t think it would be relevant!”

“This is feeling pretty relevant!” 

“You’re not the one losing clothing! Don’t talk to me about relevant!” The tentacles were now working on tugging off his pants. He tried as hard as he could to dream up something, a grenade, a flame thrower, anything, to no avail. The mark was militarized and they were using a special blend to suppress his subconscious. This had the unfortunate side effect of making conscious dreaming ten times harder. At the time had seemed like a manageable trade off but Arthur was more than ready to change his opinion now. 

The tentacles moved invasively over his body, rubbing, probing. They stripped his pants off and dipped under his briefs, slipping into his crack. Arthur’s whole body stiffened, tightened up, and Eames saw. 

“Arthur,” he said, low. 

“It’s fine, Mr. Eames,” Arthur said between clenched teeth. “It’s just a dream.” More little tentacles curled around his balls. He tried to jerk away involuntarily. 

Eames hesitated. 

The tentacle monster only really seemed interested in Arthur; possibly he was just closer to the mark’s type. In any case, Eames was held tight with a front row seat to something he was very sure Arthur would not want witnesses to. 

“Arthur,” he said again. 

Arthur made a choked off noise that Eames was sure he had not intended to make. 

“Arthur, you’ve got two choices. Option one; I close my eyes and try not to hear anything and we never speak of this again. We pretend it never happened. Option two…” he caught Arthur’s eye, “Option two; I try to help you through this. Talk you through this. Make it easier.” 

He waited, watched as Arthur closed his eyes. He was shaking a little, Eames noticed. When Arthur opened his eyes back up, he looked younger and more vulnerable than Eames had ever seen him, but sounded decisive when he gave a short nod and gritted out, “Help. If you can.”

He said this not a moment too soon as the tentacles ripped away his briefs and started writhing over his lower half.

“If I can? That sounds like a challenge, love,” said Eames, casting about for a way to distract him. Arthur was not feeling very distractible right now; he pressed his lips tight together to keep a fat tentacle out of his mouth. It got more persistent, pressing harder, oozing something from the tip, rubbing over his lips. Other tentacles started thrashing around him.

“Try to relax,” he heard Eames say, and he turned his head to give him a dirty look. _Really?_ he said with his eyes.

“I’m sorry, darling - it gets more agitated when you fight it,” said Eames apologetically. “It’s going to happen anyway. Let’s shoot for less painful rather than more, eh?”

Arthur closed his eyes again and tried to calm his body, make his muscles go lax. It took much more effort than he expected. 

“That’s it, love; now open your mouth. Let it in.” 

Arthur screwed up his face in disgust but consciously relaxed his jaw, parting his lips. The hot tentacle slithered in, big and bulging, fat enough that it stretched Arthur’s mouth. It tasted surprisingly sweet; he swallowed convulsively and felt a warmth spread down in his belly.

“Good, Arthur,” said Eames, as if he was gentling a spooked animal. “It’s calming down. Give it a suck, see if it likes it.”

Arthur shot Eames a look but did as he was told. He was holding his gaze when the monster _wriggled_ with delight and startled a muffled “mmmhp!” out of Arthur. Two specialized tentacles crept up his sides; Arthur didn’t know what they were for until they slid home over his nipples and started sucking rhythmically. He couldn’t help it; he groaned, part in reaction and part in mortification.

“It’s okay, love; it’s just me here. Who cares that the mark seems to have your chest mixed up with one that can lactate?” said Eames. One of the suckers came free for a second and milk started spilling down Arthur’s chest, mixing with the slick the tentacles left behind. The sucker latched back on and started sucking enthusiastically, making Arthur cry out and arch his back against the onslaught. 

“Ah. Well, the milk’s a surprise, but surprises are what dreams are made of, right?” Eames babbled. “Try to enjoy it, darling, relax into it. Relax. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Arthur tried to listen to him. The thing was, the suckers did feel good; they felt great. He was still sucking on the big tentacle in his mouth, and feeling warmer and warmer. But beyond the warm buzzing in his head and fantastic feeling at his chest, there was a kick of pure panic every time the tentacles down under swiped over his hole. 

One of them pressed up to it, moving weirdly, getting nasty and slimy. He clenched down as hard as he could but it wiggled insistently, pressed harder. He grunted in alarm as it slowly, slowly started to pry him open, nudging and nudging. 

“Relax,” he heard over his panic. “Arthur, relax. Come on love, you can take it, that one’s not even that big, please darling. Let it in. Bear down. You can take it, can’t you?”

He hated all of this. He didn’t want to. But he could feel the strength in the coils, the tentacles getting more violent the longer he held out, and he forcibly relaxed.

The tentacle dove in, with a disgusting squelching feeling, up and up and up. It felt like it was squirming up through his belly, like he could feel it in his throat. It surged in again and again and Arthur didn’t know how it could get worse and then it did. 

His poor dick, which had been cursorily passed over by the tentacles, suddenly became the center of attention. Thin slimy things coiled around it, pulling, tugging him to hardness. Slipping all over his cock in their slick. The tentacles were still filling up his ass, his mouth, sucking on his nipples; now one slim one rose above the others and pressed its head to the slit of Arthur’s cock. 

He had a moment of pure, indefinable terror. He had been killed countless times in dreams, tortured; but this was new. It pressed in barely, over and over again, hardly slipping past the entrance – then stiffened and _squirted_ something up into his cock. It squirmed its way up after that, fucking his cock open like nothing ever had before, stretching and moving and entirely overwhelming – 

And Eames was watching, mouth hanging open. 

Arthur cut off a whimper almost before it started in his throat, but it was too late; Eames eyes snapped to his face. Took in the tears he’d started leaking at some point – _weak, pathetic._ He hated himself, his body in this moment. 

“Arthur,” said Eames, “You’re taking this so well. You’re so good for me, love. It’s okay, it’s all right. You’re beautiful, love, you know that? You’re lovely like this. I know it feels strange, and new, but you’re doing so well.”

Arthur felt himself actually relax the tiniest bit.

“Good, love. Just breathe for me, okay? You can take it.”

The tentacle up his ass suddenly stiffened and jerked; Arthur could feel hot come filling him up as it slithered out. He heaved a sigh of relief that at least this too shall pass when Eames said, “Uh oh.”

_Uh oh?!_ Arthur tried to communicate with his eyes.

“Love, stay relaxed for me… This isn’t quite over, it seems.”

Arthur was about to demand what he meant when something that felt enormous nudged against his ass. This one was ridged; as it pushed in, it bumped his prostate over and over and over. The points of pleasure on his nipples and the writhing bunch of tentacles surrounding his cock all added together and built and built; his whole body spasmed but his cock was still plugged, he couldn’t come. 

The ridged tentacle in his ass pushed deeper and deeper, then stilled; then all of them at once started pumping. Not in and out, like they had been. They were pumping something into him, something large; he groaned as the first bulge passed through, stretching him. The tentacle in his mouth flooded his mouth with more of the sweet slippery stuff; when he swallowed, it felt like his whole insides were rearranging. 

He moaned again as another bulge followed the first one in his ass, pressing hard against his prostate. He thought, bizarrely, _maybe eggs?_

Another bulge came and he dropped his head down, panting through his nose. It was too much. He was too full. He couldn’t take anymore, he could feel his belly already swelling outward, getting plump with this monster’s come and eggs. Distantly, he could hear Eames encouraging him, soothing him, but then came the largest bulge yet and he was lost again. 

He hung suspended between one bulge and the next, wondering how he could possibly take more, waiting in horrible apprehension; he couldn’t do it, he was distended already, too much, too full – and then the tentacle in his cock started to pulse. A long filthy stretch of something moving on up, penetrating, violating, so much worse than all the ones in his ass. He didn’t know what to do, where to move, couldn’t think past the awful invasive squirming. 

Then it started to withdraw, and that almost felt worse. His cock somehow felt empty without that tentacle in it now, aching. The tentacle in his ass deposited one last huge bulge, nestling it right up against his prostate, making him jerk. The tentacles all around his body kept touching him, stroking him. The ones stuck to his nipples sucked hard, pulled and tweaked, trying to get him off. Arthur looked down to see all this; he looked obscene, he looked nine months pregnant, tentacles still squirmed all over him, plundering his body. The egg in his ass jostled, making him quiver. 

He looked over at Eames, who looked back at him hotly. Eames said, “Come for me, darling,” and Arthur did, keening around the tentacle still in his mouth, contracting around the eggs up his ass, coming harder than he could ever remember. The pulses of his orgasm drew out and by the end of them, Arthur found himself nestled against Eames on the ground with no monster in sight. 

For a few moments he just lay there with his head on Eames lap, breathing. Then he pushed himself up, the eggs still inside him shifting horribly, nipples still leaking milk. 

“I hope we can put this behind us, Mr. Eames,” he said stiffly. 

Eames looked at him, reached out to his face, and kissed his forehead. “Nothing you ever do will lessen my respect for you, darling,” he told Arthur, who looked like he didn’t know what to do with that. “Now,” he said brusquely, moving past the moment, “do you want the honors, or shall I?”

He held out the Beretta.

They woke up.


End file.
